


A Wretched Security

by albawrites



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 12:38:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2229282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albawrites/pseuds/albawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not a safe house for them, it's a prison. Drift considers what few options he and Ratchet have left as the slaughterhouse continues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Wretched Security

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Martzu](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Martzu).



> WARNING(s): Character death, huge amount of spoilers for MTMTE #32. Read at your own risk.  
> DISCLAIMER: None of the characters are owned by the author, simply written for amusement.  
> NOTES: A commission completed as requested by Martzu!

The storage cupboard. Not the most glamorous place to be. Then again, it was selected for a very specific reason.

Neither of them chose to be here. The cupboard wasn't selected as a place to hide. As an expert of sound, Tarn had chosen to lock them in here. The way the vents align, after all, allows sound to travel long and far throughout most of the ship. He wouldn't even have to turn on the speakers for the _Lost Light_ in order for Drift and Ratchet to listen to the screams of their friends and crew being tortured to death. Witnessing what Drift already has? That's been enough, but the imagination can be just as horrid. The door won't budge, and he isn't willing to leave Ratchet as he is: blinded and injured.

Drift sits by the door, hands clutched into tight fists as he trembles in his frame. It's only a matter of time until Tarn returns for him. Whenever he's done playing this game and decides to get down to business, he'll return to finish his work. 

"Drift, get over here." Ratchet, despite his optics having been drilled out from his face, doesn't sound too different. It could be because it's his way of dealing with matters at the moment. The only real difference is how tired he sounds.

"I should be closest to the door," Drift responds quietly.

Ratchet snorts. "What the hell is that going to accomplish?"

Drift goes quiet. He knows he won't have a shot at killing any of the D.J.D. That's just impossible. They tore right through Ultra Magnus. They're tearing through everyone else right _now._ It's just--

"If you're hoping that it'll delay the inevitable for me, that's not really helping matters," Ratchet says, catching Drift off guard.

Drift swallows hard.

"Listen. You did what you had to for Rodimus. You didn't let him suffer. I can't tell you if that was the right thing or not, but I can tell you that it would be worse for you right now if you were hearing him scream for his life." Ratchet exhales and struggles to not wince at the pain in his sockets.

"I thought about this," Drift finally confesses, sickeningly relieved that Ratchet can't see him shiver and quake in his own fear. "That if I was ever at risk at being caught by Tarn and everyone else, I'd get someone to just get it over with. You know? Maybe do it myself. I even thought about asking you..."

"Kid."

"But I can't now. I can't, because I killed him, Ratchet. I killed my best friend, even if it wasn't _wrong_. I still can't help but feel this way and I can't do that to _you._ "

"C'mere," Ratchet says, reaching blindly.

Weakening, Drift inches closer to Ratchet, shuddering as he leans his shoulder against Ratchet's. The medic immediately interlinks their hands, holding on tight and refusing to release the ex-Decepticon.

"If we're gonna die, we're gonna die together," Ratchet tells him. "I'm not gonna tell you that everything's going to be all right, that it's gonna work out. But I am gonna tell you that you're an even bigger idiot than I thought if you think you're helping me by dying first."

"Okay." Drift leans his forehead against the side of Ratchet's helm. "Okay."

"Okay," Ratchet echoes.

They both tense up as they hear the door unlock.

Their hands hold onto each other that much more tightly.


End file.
